My Brother's Wife
by dipdipdipmyblueship
Summary: Jealous souls will not be answered so; They are not ever jealous for the cause, But jealous for they are jealous: 'tis a monster Begot upon itself, born on itself.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: This is a story I have been contemplating writing for a while and finally got around to putting pen to paper (so to speak.)**_

_**I'm working with a new format that is very different from my other fics, so please bear with me as I work out the kinks. This chapter may be edited and re-edited a few more times within the next twenty-four hours. **_

_**And a special thanks to Noeme for all her motivation, and for getting me out of my writer's block rut. :)**_

* * *

I always knew my brother had a temper.

Even when we were younger, he was always the one most likely to kick off a sarcastic remark, or beat the council kids that teased us to a pulp in the street. I remember my parents musing aloud that it was just a phase when we were growing up; that their son was just rebelling against the mold - against the expectations that are normally placed upon the eldest sibling.

But I knew different.

I _still_ know different.

My brother always was and remains to this day a master manipulator but he is also a coward to boot; and it is those two traits, combined with his control-freak tendencies and the elitist attitude passed down by our mother Helen, that have resulted in the volcano known now as Paul Connor…

…and it was yet another eruption of this particular entity that had led us all here tonight.

_Paul's temper…_

Yeah, it was standard procedure, this! Things had once again not gone his way and so Paul reacted as Paul always does - selfishly.

This doesn't mean I love him any less of course, or that I would ever wish him any harm. Far from it. He'll always be my big brother, and my best friend really. But my eyes have been opened to my brother's flaws, and I am no longer aimlessly following in his shadow.

No. I don't idolize my big brother anymore.

I wish I could say that I also wasn't envious of my brother but that would be a lie; the truth is I don't remember a time in our adult life when I wasn't jealous of him. The truth is, in spite of his temper, our Paul had an awful lot going for him; and the good outweighed the bad.

He has this uncanny ability to just act in the face of a crisis instead of reacting. He is able to look upon a scene of utter devastation, draw in two or three long drags of oxygen, and then spring into action; something I could never do, but always wish I could.

Dead protective is our Paul, and loyal to a fault. He would do anything to ensure the stability and safety of those he held dearest to him.

And yet this protective quality, along with his temper, was responsible for why we were gathered here tonight; waiting with abated breath for any news on his condition.

I had looked around the room of worried and shattered faces earlier, and I had been subconsciously gearing myself up for the normal pangs of jealousy I tend to get whenever my brother once again takes centre stage. It's not an unwelcome feeling though, feels like second skin really; after all he tends to pull stunts like this quite often. He had everyone tied in knots when he went AWOL back in March after our Ryan was caught joyriding. Everyone was dead worried about him, terrified that he finally flipped his lid and wrapped his car around a streetlamp somewhere in greater Manchester. But when he finally turned up, after groveling in typical charming Paul Connor fashion, it was hugs and kisses all around.

Everyone was so happy to see him, glad that he was safe and sound, while I-

- well I was slowly being eaten on the inside by jealousy.

This time it is worse though.

_Much worse…_

I allow my head to drop lazily into my hand as I try to bring my thoughts back to the present; only two of us now remain behind awaiting news, and I am thankful for that in more ways than one. As I massage my forehead, I remember back to just twelve hours prior; I can still see the broken glass, the dented frame of the car, and the colours of the sirens as they blared nearby.

I can still see the blood spilling down his unconscious face as the emergency personnel used the jaws of life to pry him out of the mangled vehicle, and suddenly I am back _there_: five years earlier…standing outside the car crash looking in on my brother-in-law's lifeless face.

I shake my head in an attempt to remove the image from my mind's eye and exhale forcefully: it was Paul who had saved our sorry skins that night; his calm and collected self rising to the surface and taking control of the situation while I simply panicked under the pressure.

I take a sip of this horrible watered-down coffee in my hands. I am unnerved; those normal envious feelings have not yet hit me; and as I swallow my drink I realize that the reason I am unsettled is because I'm not really as surprised as I should be tonight.

No…

_Tonight _my brother has lost my respect with his secrets and lies;

_Tonight _I have come to realize that I am the better man;

_Tonight_ I have no reason to be jealous of Paul;

and it has everything to do with _her_….

Lifting my eyes from the beige tiles below my feet, I watch as she floats tipsily around the chairs of the waiting room. She is clutching a disposable cup of coffee to her chest like I am, and I can't help the way my eyes scan her body from bottom to top. Even as she sobers from her earlier inebriated state, she still manages to command the room.

_My brother's wife…_

Her figure is lithe, yet curvy; her average height increased by the stilettos that click along the quiet corridor of the nearly deserted hospital wing. My gaze pauses on her profile as she turns slowly to look down the hallway for what is possibly the hundredth time in the past ten minutes. But it is her eyes that finally cause my brow to furrow sympathetically. Red and puffy from crying, her normally stunning green orbs are hopelessly desolate. Her cheeks are stained with black smudges from her mascara, and her wonderfully plump lips, the ones that make me subconsciously lick my own, are being pursed tightly as she attempts to stop them from quivering; her lower lip held securely in place by her teeth.

"Carla?" I hear myself croak to her and watch as she slowly turns her gaze to acknowledge me, "why don't you come sit down sweet'eart, eh?" I can see she is contemplating it, but as she shifts her attention back to the hallway I call to her again, "you watching them doors ain't gonna make them come out any quicker darlin'."

She closes her eyes and drops her head, taking in a deep breath while fresh tears traipse down her face, and I feel myself rise instinctively to my feet. Within a few short strides I am at her side and I lift my hand to run it soothingly down her hair, "c'mon love," I whisper softly as I tug her towards me, noting to myself that I have placed three different terms of endearment upon her within the span of sixty seconds and realizing how right it felt to do so; "c'mon let's sit down hey?" She nods, still not uttering a word, and with one final longing look down the hall, she falls into step beside me.

As we settle into the uncomfortable seats, she rests upon my shoulder and I automatically lean my cheek against her head. It is at that moment that I am reminded of the other casualty of the night, and letting out a collective sigh with her, my brother's wife, I finally address the elephant in the room.

"I keep thinking of Leanne," I begin trepidatiously, "her and our Paul… it's doin' me 'ead in."

"Yup," she responds hoarsely, "it's not done much for my self-esteem neither." As the words pass her lips I find my eyes are once again scanning her body; how could she ever think she was anything but gorgeous?

My fingers deftly grasp hers as I ask the question I am dreading to hear the answer to, "Did you really no idea?" I whisper softly, my gaze shifting to her face.

She snorts derisively, and a humourless smile tugs at her lips, "I'm telling you whatever problems we do 'ave," her voice drops suddenly along with her smile, "I thought everything was alright in that department."

I nod slightly. She wasn't the only one who thought so. Paul used to brag to me about their sex life, still did now that I come to think of it. He always seemed so proud of his spitfire of a wife, but I also know he does it to get a rise out of me, knowing I have had a crush on her since before they got together.

I sigh nostalgically. I still remember the first time I saw her: her dark hair whipping up behind her, green eyes sparkling, a big smile on her face and a body that had made both Paul and I gasp involuntarily.

She was so extraordinarily gorgeous; so classically beautiful, that I was immediately reminded of Elizabeth Taylor…

…and I just about laughed out loud…

"I thought I met the girl of me dreams," I thought to myself as I remembered that day twelve years ago, "gorgeous, a go-getter-"

"Oh she were a go-getter alright," she retorts quietly from beside me, and it is then that I realize that I have spoken my thoughts aloud; she isn't suspicious of whom I was referring to, so I hastily cover my tracks, "even booked a mini-break," I continue, "in Prague. I've got the tickets and everything-," I feel her shift, lifting her head off my shoulder as she cocks her head to look at me

"Hey," she states comfortingly, her hand coming up and resting upon my chest, "you'll find somebody else," she tells me reassuringly as I feel a heat spread through my skin beneath her fingertips; she rests her head back on my shoulder, "you're a good catch," she finishes lovingly, and it is in that moment that I want to tell her that I don't want somebody else…

I've only ever wanted her…

"Mrs. Connor?" a voice breaks me out of my thoughts and both Carla and I rise to our feet

"Yeah that's me," she responds worriedly, and I can hear the anxiety in her voice as we face the doctor

"As you know your husband has been in surgery most of the night," he states and I watch as her body begins to shake before me, "we've done everything we can-" he states apologetically

I hear the sob push its way past her lips as I stand immobile behind her, simply staring at the man in front of us; but as she turns to me in despair, I find my attention now focused on her. I pull her now sobbing and trembling body into my arms, wrapping them tightly about her, and gently cradle her head, softly hushing into her hair as I sway her…

…the love of my life…

…_my brother's wife…_


	2. Chapter 2

As I stare at the pamphlets lining the small table next to my chair, I feel my brain begin to pound in that slow, dull ache that I've been dreading since we left the pub. I groan loudly and drop my heavy-as-lead head into my hands, leaning my elbows on top of my knees as I dangle over the edge in a vain attempt to halt the assault.

This was such a rookie mistake. God, you'd think I'd never drank before!

It's the cardinal rules of drinking: you either stop after a little, or once you start drinking copious amounts, you either drink enough water in between, eat enough to sop up the alcohol, or just keep drinking until you fall asleep!

I mentally tick off each option in my mind: drinking a little was most assuredly off the table! Water wasn't an option for me…not even to make a cup of tea or coffee. I needed something strong from the moment my husband stormed out of our flat in a violent rage that morning; and I definitely haven't eaten; not since before I found them dodgy receipts proving my lying, cheating husband's infidelity…

…and the worst of it, is that I know I won't be sleeping any time soon either; not until I know that he's alright. Because as much as I hate what he's done to me, to us, to our marriage, I still love my Pauly with every fibre of my being; and the very thought of him dying is enough to suffocate my already bruised heart to complete and utter stillness.

I don't remember the drive to the hospital, nor much of what I said to Liam or that gobby cow Janice Battersby upon arriving here, except it was something about needing a bar.

And oh how my big brother-in-law couldn't help but turn his nose up at me.

Typical Connor. Just like his sister earlier that evening.

I were never good enough for them, you see. What a laugh, eh? _Me_ not good enough for Paul 'flammin' Connor! They all made that plain when we first got together. Well, all except for Barry, and my Paul of course. Paul's dad always took a shine to me. I always just assumed it was because we both had a fondness for the same whiskey, or maybe because he liked the way I was able to put his eldest son in his place; stood up to him when he needed knocking down a peg or ten.

But the rest of the family made up for it. From the time we first became official, any argument, any little thing that went wrong during dinners, get togethers or family visits was all down to that council-estate rough known as Carla Donovan.

I'd have been a fool to think today would be any different; I could see it in their eyes earlier that day. I knew they'd assumed it was me that caused this. Probably thinking it were a lovers tiff that was blown out of proportion by Paul's drama queen of a wife. After all it were always me weren't it?

Well this particular song and dance was about to change drastically; Paul would no longer be able to do no wrong.

I had chuckled in spite of myself; well that's not _exactly_ true anymore is it? After all 'Chelle was already downright livid with him for the past few months after finding out about his role in her husband Dean's death five years ago.

But Liam still needed a harsh dose of reality. He needed to face up to his brother's true form, and knock Paul off the pedestal he had him so proudly perched him on…

…and boy did I enjoy laying it on the line for him in that waiting room:

"What does any of this got to do with Leanne?" He had asked me, sounding thoroughly annoyed.

I bit my lip as I tried to suppress a laugh, "Oh, you don't know do you?" I couldn't help but feel a slight tinge of satisfaction, "one of Paul's little secrets that he's managed to keep from you." I should have been happy, finally knowing something about my husband that neither Liam nor Michelle did; but instead I feel remorse for treating my brother-in-law so badly all day. I had, after all, been so sure that Liam knew of Paul's philandering ways…

"What?" Liam asked me; daring me to tell him the dirty little secret

I sighed deeply, willing my voice to not crack with the emotion I felt, "Leanne, the lovely Leanne," I stated, hastily wiping the tears that escaped my eyes, as I pinned Liam with a knowing look, "your _**girlfriend**_,"

'_Yeah, after all those digs to Paul about his council estate girlfriend, it's my turn to stick it to the little golden boy,'_ I had thought bitterly, and with a derisive snort I unleashed the truth, "is a prostitute." I could see the shock on his face but I still had my trump card to play, "your big brother's her number one customer," I finished smugly. _'So take that news and stick it Leebugs.'_ I thought to myself.

But the look on his face, the crushing disappointment of realizing his girlfriend was a hooker and his big brother was banging her behind his back was enough to halt any further ridiculing from me.

That was the difference between me and the Connors you see; I always felt guilt, whereas they apparently never felt any towards me…

Taking a deep breath I change my tone to a sympathetic one, "you see?" I had whispered knowingly, "told you we could do with a bar!"

I pace the room now, hours later, slowly sobering up and awaiting Liam to come back from wherever he has escaped to. Michelle has left several hours earlier with her pub-owner boytoy, leaving us with the strictest of instructions to call _when_ Paul pulls through.

_**When**_ he pulls through; the presumptuous, grudge-holding, spoiled little mare. She was so certain that he would survive this.

Or maybe on some level, she felt this was karma: Paul drinking and driving yet again, crashing the car but killing himself this time instead of someone else. Maybe that thought, in some strange way, put her grieving for Dean at peace. I shake my head to rid my mind of those thoughts. Michelle would never think like that, no matter how angry she is with her brother.

But as the alcohol slowly leaves my system, replaced now by copious amounts of this horrible watered-down coffee, I am getting more and more apprehensive. What is taking the doctors so long? How bad was my Paul hurt?

_'Was it my fault?'_ I think as I lift my eyes and glance towards the corridor, watching as Liam strides past me and plonks down in a seat, '_If I had just given in and forgiven him he would still be in my arms.'_

My eyes flood with tears and I begin to sob quietly. I hastily wipe my cheeks as I keep my back turned to my brother-in-law.

"Carla?" I hear him croak behind me and I slowly turn my gaze to acknowledge him, "why don't you come sit down with me sweet'eart eh?" I think about it for a minute before shifting my attention back to the hallway. _'How long have I been staring down this corridor?'_ I ask myself

I hear him call to me again, "you watching them doors ain't gonna make them come out any quicker darlin'."

I can't help but close my eyes and drop my head. I take in a deep breath as fresh tears slowly descend down my cheeks and I hear him approach me, feeling his gentle hand run almost soothingly down my hair, "c'mon love," he whispers softly to me as he tugs me towards him. In my despairing state I can't help but note that he has placed three different terms of endearment upon me in just under a minute; and realizing how right it felt coming from his lips, frightened me to the core...

"C'mon let's sit down hey?" He presses gently and I find myself nodding, but still cannot utter a single word; and with one final longing look down the hall, I fall into step beside him.

As we settle into the uncomfortable seats once again, I instinctively rest upon his shoulder and I feel him lean his cheek against my head.

"I keep thinking of Leanne," he states almost cautiously, addressing the elephant in the room yet again, "her and our Paul… it's doin' me 'ead in."

"Yup," I respond rather hoarsely, "it's not done much for my self-esteem neither." My eyes focus on a spot on the opposite side of the room. Paul used to tell me I was the most gorgeous, sexy woman he has ever known. Our sex-life was still hot and heavy. We may have fought a lot but we always made up, and we were quite passionate about it. There was no withholding of sex on my part, nor on his. What could I have been doing wrong that made him turn to escorts? Was I suddenly not attractive to him anymore?

I feel his fingers gently grasp mine, "Did you really no idea?" he asks me softly, and I feel his gaze shift to look at my face.

I can't help the derisive snort as a humourless smile tugs at my lips; it's like he could hear my thoughts, "I'm telling you whatever problems we do 'ave," I answer truthfully, my voice dropping suddenly along with my smile, "I thought everything was alright in that department."

"I thought I met the girl of me dreams," he states rather nostalgically, "gorgeous, a go-getter-"

"Oh she were a go-getter alright," I interrupt quietly, suddenly feeling a pang of jealousy. That blonde-haired little tart managed to turn both the Connor's heads…something I was never able to do. When I had first met them, I had a ridiculous crush on the younger Connor, my husband's brother, but he, it seemed, had wanted nothing to do with me in that way. It was Paul that showed a keen interest in me, managing to sweep me romantically off my feet, and I fell hard for the older Connor brother, falling in love for the first time in my life...

"...Even booked a mini-break," Liam continues, interrupting my train of thought, "in Prague. I've got the tickets and everything-," I shift, lifting my head off his shoulder and turning slightly to look upon him

"Hey," I state in a comforting tone, my hand coming up and resting upon his chest, "you'll find somebody else," I tell him reassuringly, and I feel his heartbeat quicken slightly beneath my fingertips; I rest my head back upon his shoulder, "you're a good catch," I finish truthfully. _  
_

_'I sometimes wish I had been the one to have caught you…'_ I think rather unbidden.

"Mrs. Connor?" a voice breaks me out of my thoughts and both Liam and I rise to our feet

"Yeah that's me," I respond shakily

"As you know your husband has been in surgery most of the night," the doctor states and I feel my body begin to shake involuntarily, "we've done everything we can-" he states apologetically

'_No! not my Paul!'_ I think hastily, and a sob pushes its way past my lips as I turn to Liam in my despair. I fall into his welcoming embrace, his arms wrapping tightly about me and gently cradling my head, softly hushing into my hair as he sways me…

_…my husband's brother…_

"He's still alive," the doctor says, as if I'm supposed to have known that

"See?" Liam whispers reassuringly to me, "he's still alive. He's still alive…"

"Oh thank God!" I state thankfully as I pull away from Liam's chest and face the doctor again.

"But he's going to find it very hard to pull through," the doctor says somberly and I feel this overwhelming urge to smack him for playing upon our emotions like this.

"So what are you saying?" Liam asks pointedly

"I can keep him comfortable, but if you want to get in touch with any other relatives I'd do it now."

The words hit me like a battering ram and I grip onto Liam's collar as I begin to sob again. His hands once again caress my hair as he pulls me tightly to him.

I don't know how long we stood there, clinging helplessly to one another...

I don't remember how long I sat staring at the floor while Liam called Steve and then his parents…

But I am aware that I am now walking slowly behind a nurse towards Paul's hospital room; my heart pounding viciously in my chest as I grip Liam's hand beside me like a lifeline. I can hear the beeping of his machines as we pass the window and I feel my breath hitch painfully in my throat.

We step into the room, and Liam and I turn simultaneously to see my husband's prone body lying on the bed; a tube running down his throat, pumping air into his lungs.

I can literally feel my soul disintegrating around me. So this is what it feels like to die…

I step forward, my hand reluctantly leaving the warmth of Liam's fingers and my eyes gaze across to the machine beside my husband's bed. I have no idea what half of these tubes and prodes are for, but I carefully lean down,

"Paul?" I call to him, my voice thick and raw from crying, "It's me, love!" I ease my one hand to rest upon his head, while my other gently grasps his fingers and tenderly strokes his knuckles. Oh, what I wouldn't give to have him open his eyes and respond to me right now…

"He's unconscious and umm likely to remain that way," I hear the doctor state, from somewhere behind Liam I presume; I can't bear to turn and look at him now, "I'll ummm leave you alone," he states sympathetically before leaving us once more…

_me…_

_my husband…_

_and my husband's brother…_


	3. Chapter 3

I feel my limbs pulse and ache and I am powerless to stop it.

I can't describe the overwhelming feeling of irritation at not being able to control it. I can only compare it to the muscle aches you would experience when battling the flu; that relentless trembling that you cannot cease no matter which position you get yourself into.

Only this is worse…

…_much worse_.

I feel both hot and cold, awake and asleep, antsy yet strangely at peace…

…_alive and dead_…

My body feels surrounded by dry ice; billowing about me as though I'm wrapped up in something pillowy or cloud-like; like the duvet my wife snuggles around us when we have a lie-in.

_"And what is it exactly that these 'working girls' do, that I don't?"_ I can hear her soft voice echo in my mind; so full of hurt, betrayal…

My wife.

_My beautiful wife._

I can feel my heart begin to pound at the mere thought of her, and memory, like the git it is, finally hits me full-force.

…_"You're a devious cow, you know that?" _

_"Me devious? You know, coming from a cowardly, lying, little sexual inadequate like you - that's almost a compliment."_

…_"Oh another thing: your secretary, Rachel isn't it?" _

_"Yeah, if you say so." _

_"Oh I do. Only Rachel's not her real name, is it? No. Her real name's Leanne Battersby; your brother's girlfriend!"_

…_"Paul, you've been caught with your trousers around your ankles and your credit card on the bedside table; what, you really think you can persuade me that this is just another adventure, eh? On our roller coaster of a marriage."_

…_"Carla, I love you now as much as I ever did." _

_"Well how ironic, 'cause I hate you right now more than I ever have."_

…_"I am gonna divorce you! And then I'm gonna tell the world what a grubby, filthy, disgusting little pervert you really are. Then, I'm gonna screw you for every penny I can get!"_

I'm unsure of how long I've been lying here, but my mind begins to piece together the events of the crash. What the hell had I been thinking? Drinking; shoving Leanne in the boot of my car; not keeping my eyes on the road...

…God, I hope Leanne's not dead! Not another death on my conscience…not again…

I must be getting myself worked up, because the machine next to me begins to beep incessantly. I hear a rush of footsteps and hands being placed upon me; feeling for a pulse I think…

Before I can rationalize what's happening, I am once again doused in darkness; my trembling limbs and aching muscles are now at rest, and I feel oddly at peace.

As if incredibly removed from it, I can feel something cold being placed upon my chest. The sensation is strangely foreign but comforting all the same. I hear a shout from somewhere above me, and a surge of electricity courses beneath my skin, jolting me upwards and I feel the uncomfortable sensation of pins and needles pulsing from my head to my toes. The long beep from somewhere beside me halts for a split second, before short steady beeps replace it.

I feel my mouth being pried opened, and something plastic placed inside; it's holding my tongue in place and reaching down the back of my throat. I find it strange that I haven't gagged at the process, and I begin to wonder if I am actually alive at this point.

My chest starts to rise and fall as oxygen is expelled through the contraption in my mouth, and a heavy fog descends around me. I will myself to a happier place and time…to eight years earlier; watching as the most gorgeous woman I have ever known floated towards me down the aisle of the little country church; shivering slightly from both the chill and nerves, even though she'll never admit to anyone that she had been nervous.

It wasn't the first time she was nervous with me either. I was her first lover. Remarkable really, that she hadn't been intimate with anyone prior to me. She was stunningly gorgeous, witty, smart…how had I been so lucky to catch her?

I remember our first night ten years ago: how this outwardly strong and tough woman, trembled as I slowly undressed her. How her lips quivered as I kissed her; how the tears pricked the corners of her eyes as I thrust into her and her virginity as gently as possible. I remember laying atop her, feeling her warmth surround me as I gazed down upon her face. Her breathing quickened as she tried to adjust to the feeling of having me inside her. I remember with stunning clarity that I had leaned down and kissed her eyes, capturing the involuntary tears that had escaped them with my warm lips. I remember the look of pure trust and love when her eyelids finally fluttered open, and she nodded to me that she was alright. I remembering building to a slow rhythm, making sure she was okay as I moved easily in and out of her. Her fingertips dug into my shoulder and back, and when I leaned down to kiss her I could hear her moan with pleasure…

Our first time as husband and wife was just as special to me; she was strangely timid again, feeling quite vulnerable to my lustful gaze as I peeled her out of her wedding gown. That is the memory I now choose to focus on as the fog now encompasses me entirely; that wonderful couple of nights in our honeymoon suite before we jetted off on our actual honeymoon...

I'm unsure how long I've been out again as I fight through the haze and will myself back to the present; to the smell of disinfectant, the hospital room, and the incessant beeping.

I can hear the distinct sound of her shoes as they click slowly in the hallway and into my room. I can hear them sniffling, and wonder who is with her…Liam? Michelle?

I can feel her move towards me and my heart skips a beat. ""Paul?" I hear her call to me, her voice so thick and raw from crying, "It's me, love!" I feel a slight breeze as one of her hand reaches up and rests upon my head, while the warm fingers of her other hand gently grasp mine, her thumb tenderly stroking my knuckles. Oh, what I wouldn't give to just open my eyes and respond to her right now…

"He's unconscious and umm likely to remain that way," I hear the doctor state, from somewhere near the door;

_'no,'_ I think to myself, _'no I will not remain this way. I need to be with my wife…I need my Carla.'_

"I'll ummm leave you alone," he states sympathetically before I hear his shoes click away, leaving us alone.

"How is he? Is he alright?" I hear another female voice ask, and suddenly Carla pulls away from me and turns, I assume, to face _her_…Leanne 'flammin' Battersby. I feel myself craving my wife's touch again… _'please come back,'_ I plead silently to her

"Very touching," I hear my brother's bitter voice state maliciously, "do you often come see your customers in 'ospital?"

"I never did anythin-" she tries pathetically to explain

"My brother's dyin' 'ere," he cuts her off and I feel a rush of pride at his sudden burst of strength, "can't stand around chattin'!"

There's a moment of silence, before I hear Liam sniffle and feel Carla hovering over me again, resuming her earlier position. I can hear Leanne crying outside the room; I note now that Liam has moved to stand next to my wife, and by the slight jolt of my hand, I assume he's reached out and grasped her forearm supportively.

She strokes my hair, and I hear her softly begin to sob, "Pauly?" she chokes out in a whisper, "I'm sorry darling, please...please don't leave us!" she suddenly heaves as she breaks down, her head resting upon my exposed chest. Her hot tears trail down my skin, and the sound of her sobbing shatters my already tired heart. I hear Liam coo to her softly as he steps ever closer to her. I feel her weight lift slowly off me, and I know my little brother is comforting her. Her fingers remain entwined with mine, but I can hear her cries are now muffled as she is pressed against his chest.

…_my brother's arms are around my wife…_

I feel an uncontrollable spark of jealousy ignite from deep within my chest. I know he's always had feelings for her…even if he never wanted to admit it out loud. I see the way he looks at her: at _my_ Carla,

…_his brother's wife…_

The fog and the pillowy feeling about my body suddenly lifts exponentially. The faint beeping next to me becomes stronger, more persistent. The tube in my throat now begins to constrict me, gag me, but I use what little strength I can to squeeze my wife's fingers.

I can hear her gasp and she is suddenly hovering near my head again, "Paul?" she whispers almost disbelievingly.

I need to see her, I have to see her…

I groan loudly, and roll my head ever so slowly from side to side.

"_**Nurse!**_" I hear my brother shout before footsteps come sounding down the hallway. With a flutter, my eyes blink open, and my view of her becomes obstructed as the nurses and doctors begin to remove the tube from my mouth.

But then the moment is upon me; for just one single moment I am looking upon my terrified, hopeful, and yet shattered-looking wife once more. I smile weakly at her, and promise myself that will do anything it takes to continue looking upon her for the rest of my life.

_My wife…_

…_my Carla_


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: I apologize for the delay in uploading this chapter. Thank you all for your unwavering support of this and my other fics. I hope this update will have been worth the wait.**_

_**A special thanks to all of the readers who have been so encouraging in recent weeks, with a special shoutout to Noeme, LoveCarlaConnor, madaboutcarla, pejo1girl. Your kind words and support have been incredibly motivating to me, and I am more grateful for that than you realize. :)**_

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I stare at the monitor as the computer at my desk slowly switches on and shrug off my jacket. The factory workers are bustling around their lockers, gossiping as per usual and taking their bloody time in getting to their machines. I glance out the office window and roll my eyes in sheer annoyance. This act of theirs is becoming rather tiresome, and if they think I'm paying them for a full eight-hour shift when they take fifteen minutes when they arrive and fifteen minutes before they clock out of that time just standing around yammerin' on, then they've got another thing comin'.

I can hear that damn Janice Battersby's shrill laugh and I feel my jaw tighten involuntarily. Placing my elbows on the desk, I drop my head in my hands, my fingers clenching my hair tightly in frustration and I count to ten. As much as I wanted to, I knew I couldn't sack her following the accident four months ago without being brought forth to a labour tribunal for unlawful dismissal.

I exhale deeply, my anger rising exponentially. Every day I see her, or hear her irritatingly nasal voice, is just another constant reminder of her step-daughter Leanne, and the marriage that's been left in tatters in her wake. Another shrill laugh from that cow's gob reverberates loudly into my eardrums and before I can stop myself, I'm on my feet and at the door of the office, ready to voice my agro at them all, when I hear _her_ voice ring across the factory floor,

"_**Oi! Stitch! It's what we pay you for!" **_

The workers quickly dart to their machines with only a select few grumbling and rolling their eyes. My eyes lock on Janice's, knowing she will attempt to mock the order that was handed down just seconds earlier, and I smile in satisfaction as she breaks eye contact with me, swallows hard, and decides wisely to keep her mouth shut as she trudges to her machine.

"Mornin' darlin'," I say as I hear the heels of stiletto boots clang rhythmically into the office

"Mornin' Leebugs," she states as she tosses her purse onto the larger of the two desks and proceeds to the office door, "Rosie?" she calls out to our P.A. who is standing in the kitchen, "two cups of coffee please love when you're ready."

"Yes Mrs. Connor!" comes the high-pitched reply

I watch from the corner of my eye as she sits at Paul's old desk and chuckle to myself as she makes herself comfier in his leather chair and leans across to turn on the monitor.

"You were up early this mornin'," I state gingerly, as I swivel my chair to face her, "thought you were in the shower before I saw the note you left on the counter. Go anywhere important?"

My eyes fall to her mouth as she purses her lips and I subconsciously lick my own in response. She clears her throat a little before answering quietly, "been to see my solicitor; had to ummm finalize the divorce papers."

I sigh but nod my head in understanding, wanting to delve a little further but before I can, she tries to lighten the mood, "besides," she says with a smirk, typing in her passcode into the computer, "with how loud you were snoring upstairs I'm not surprised you didn't hear me moving about in the flat, although it worked out great for me." She ticked off her tasks on her fingers, "I managed to have a shower, get changed, blow dry my 'air, and enjoy a nice cuppa all without listening to a certain someone whinge on about Manchester City losing their last match to United."

I can't help but chuckle at her sense of humour. "So what did the solicitor say then?" I ask curiously.

She presses her lips together momentarily and bites the inside of her lip, raising her eyebrows slightly before responding. As she speaks, I can't help but note that her tone is a dismissive one, as though trying to close herself off from her emotions as she has done so many times in the past; "that she's pleased I'm not going to be trying to bleed him dry like many other 'thwarted' wives try to do to their husbands. Says it tends to lose any possible sympathy from the judge." She snorts derisively as she flips through some papers, a pen now idly twirling between her fingers, "what would she think of me if she knew the truth eh? If only she knew that's exactly what I _had_ threatened to do that morning back in June. That _that's_ what had got 'im so angry before he stormed off…" her voice cracked as it trailed off, but she shook her head slightly and regained her 'normal' composure, "anyhow, it's all blood under the bridge now in't it? He's given me the flat, and I've taken over his shares of the factory under the stipulation that a percentage of our earnings go to him. I don't need anymore than that. All that's left to do now is serve Paul the divorce papers and start getting my life back together. And let's be honest; last thing I need right now is your mother breathing down my neck, shouting from the rooftops that everything she ever said about me being a gold-digging bitch turned out to be true eh?"

I can feel my brow furrowing in sympathy and I rise to my feet again, this time walking towards her. Pressing my palms onto her desk, I bend at the waist so I'm leaning down towards her, "you alright?" I ask tentatively

There is a slight twitch in her cheek and I could swear I see her expression soften for just a flicker of a moment before her defenses build up again. She raises her gaze from the files on the desk and pins her now hardened eyes on my own, "Well, I will be once my business partner finishes the preparation on the Gordon's Catalogue proposal. You know: the thing I asked him to do two days ago?"

I chuckle again and rise to my full height, "alright, alright! I'm on it!" I state jokingly, holding my palms up in mock surrender as Rosie comes traipsing into the office with our coffees. "Oh 'ang on there Rosie!" I say cheerily, halting the young Webster before she can hand Carla her beverage. I reach into my desk and pull out a small bag and hand it to my sister-in-law.

"What's this?" She asks quizzically as she eyes the poorly wrapped bag she twirls between her palms.

"Now Carla," I begin in a patronizing tone, knowing how much it riles her up, "let me explain to you 'ow a present works, alright?" Her eyes narrow at me and she rolls her tongue to the inside corner of her mouth as I continue, "first right? Someone 'ands you a gift, okay? And then you _unwrap_ it, you following me so far?" I question jokingly as I demonstrate how one unwraps a present with the 'invisible' one in my hands, "and once you see what lies beneath the wrappin', you say '_Aww you shouldn't 'ave!_' Get it?"

She doesn't say a word, but simply shakes her head at me in mock annoyance before she begins to unwrap the gift in her hands. I smile and wink at Rosie, who blushes and giggles slightly in return.

'_Odd one, this one is…'_ I think to myself in response to our P.A.'s rather strange reaction before turning my attention back to Carla, who has now pulled out the mug from its gift wrap.

"Queen Bitch," she reads with a twinge of humour lining her voice, "ohhh gee Liam, you shouldn't 'ave" she clucks with a chuckle, and I throw my arms on either side of me,

"Only the best for you darlin'!" I say lowering my arms once more as I pluck the cup out of her hands and hand it to the young woman by her side, "Rosie, if you would do the honours please?"

"Sure thing Mr. Connor," she says as she heads to the kitchen to pour Carla's coffee into her new mug.

I sit back down at my desk to begin the finishing touches on the proposal for Gordon's and can't help but roll my eyes as I prepare the portfolio for the man we were trying to score a big order from;

_Tony 'Soprano' Gordon…_

The man who can only speak to _the boss_. My eyes peek over to where _the boss_ sits, accepting her coffee from our P.A. in the new mug that I bought her…just because I wanted to see her smile.

With a small smile of my own, I allow my gaze to focus back on the screen before me.

These past four months have been hard on her.

_Really hard…_

When my brother awoke in hospital, the doctors were nothing short of stunned. It were a miracle they had said, and just proved that our Paul had a more important reason to remain among the living then to join those dearly departed. We all knew what that reason was too; after all from the moment his eyes opened he couldn't remove them from his driving force…from _her._

My brother's wife had cried tears of joy upon her husband's miraculous recovery, and once Michelle arrived the three of us clung together as they wheeled Paul into recovery, needing to run some more tests to determine his possible discharge date.

The night we almost lost Paul had changed us all. Our Michelle became more merciful; finally allowing herself to speak to Paul about the whole Dean fiasco and forgiving her older brother for his transgression against her and his nephew, saying that his brush with death and nearly losing everything had been punishment enough.

But where our Michelle became more lenient, I had become more callous; or at least I had where our brother was concerned. He had not only been lying to us all about cheating on his wife for years, taking her for granted while also making her often feel as though she wasn't deserving of him; but he had finally topped it all off in typical Paul Connor style with a classic coup de grace…

…and cheated on Carla with **_my_** girlfriend.

Though I shouldn't be too surprised. My girlfriend was much like my brother as it had transpired; while he was cheating on his gorgeous wife for years with a multitude of women of whom he had _paid,_ Leanne had been cheating on me for months with a multitude of _paying_ men.

It was much easier for me to break it off with Leanne and move on from her infidelity then it was for Carla to do with our Paul. Leanne and I had only been together for a few months after all. And while I was relieved that both she and my brother had survived the horrible accident, I was certainly not going out of my way to forgive their illicit tryst anytime soon.

I went out of my way to avoid Leanne and her pathetic excuses. The most I spoke to her, after finally giving her an audience to explain why she did what she did, was to warn her to stay away from Carla. The tart actually believed Carla would put everything behind them just a month afterwards and still want to get into the restaurant business with her. She even tried to approach her in the pub several times, and didn't seem to get the message until I accosted her by her arm and dragged her outside the Rovers. My reaction surprised even me, but I had been bubbling with unbridled anger as I watched her tell Carla to _'get over it, and move on because we have a business to run.'_

I can still feel my fingers pinching into her flesh and her whimper slightly in pain as I had dragged her out of the doors. Normally I don't have it in me to ever lay a harsh finger on a woman, but in that instance I didn't seem to remember it. Instead I had pulled her against me, so her back was pressed to my chest, and I leaned down close to her cheek, _"You don't seem to be gettin' the subtle message that Carla's been throwin' through that thick skull of yours do you?"_ I whispered viciously, _"so let me be perfectly clear, and I suggest you listen closely 'cause I'm only going to say this once:" _I had clenched my jaw tightly to quell the rising inferno of my temper as I uttered the next words, practically feeling the venom oozing from my lips while I spoke,_ "stay the hell away from my sister-in-law. Don't come near her, don't speak to her, don't even look at her. She wants nowt to do with you and I'll not havin' you upset her anymore than you already 'ave done, do you get me?"_

"_Why the sudden concern for Carla, eh? What are you her minder now?"_ she had screeched with a chuckle, _"what? her bodyguard now that Paul wants nowt to do with her?" _My fingers had dug even more painfully into her arm, _"Ooo! Struck a nerve 'ave I?"_

"_You don't know what you're talking about you stupid cow! She has been like family to me and I care about her a 'ell of a lot more than I will __**ever**__ care about a trollop like you!"_ I hissed at her before shoving her away from me, "_but mark my words, you speak to Carla like that again, and I'll make you wish you'd 'ave died in that boot."_

She had swallowed hard, and visibly shrunk before me, _"you-you can't mean that Liam…"_ she sniffled, her eyes filling with crocodile tears which somehow made me all the more angry.

I took a ominous step towards her and leaned in close to her face, _"Oh but I do,"_ I whispered maliciously, _"I wish I had never laid eyes on you, I wish I never allowed myself to be worked over by some 'professional' slapper," _I took another step towards her as her lower lip began to quiver more prominently, _"I wish I found out what you were really like before it were too late, and I wish you suffered more than a couple of bruises in our Paul's boot, that way I wouldn't have had to see your gloatin' face every damn day since it 'appened!"_ I turned my back quickly on her and march back into the pub, disgusted with her pathetic waterworks display and not wanting to hear anything more that she had to say.

My brother was also not immune from the recent viciousness I had obtained, and in my defense, I had tried to put my hatred aside for all our sakes when Carla first brought Paul back from the hospital.

Our Paul was laying it on thick for weeks; playing the doting husband, being the romantic, loving man who had swept Carla off her feet, and right from under my nose, ten years ago.

But things still continued to crumple down around him.

He was charged with driving under the influence, reckless driving resulting in bodily harm, and reckless endangerment. Leanne had refused to press charges against him, no doubt terrified that her 'secret' life would be exposed not just locally, but nationally if she testified in court, but the rest of the charges had stuck against him. There was no way he could feasibly run the factory with what would be a possible criminal record.

I saw my chance to really stick it to my big brother then, and after a meeting with our solicitor, I convinced him to give his shares of Underworld to Carla. She would be able to run the business, he would still make a percentage of the total profits, and the company wouldn't be stained with his criminal record. Oh my big brother fought it tooth and nail at first, but our solicitor assured him it was the right thing to do for both the business and for himself. He had reluctantly agreed, and I smirked with pleasure as he signed his shares over to his wife on the dotted line.

Any hope at trying to piece his life back together would only continue to go down from there…

…After all, the night we almost lost him had changed Carla as well.

Following the accident, Carla had become more vulnerable. Her self-confidence had taken quite a hit during this ordeal and it was something that was killing her slowly each day.

She had tried to put the betrayal behind her and move on but she couldn't. No matter what anyone else thought, she loved Paul with all her heart. He was, and remains to this day, her first love. She never dreamed of being unfaithful to him, and never imagined he would be to her. The knowledge that not all was well with them, not even in the one place that she thought they were strong, was enough to plummet her into an emotional wreck.

Just over a month after the accident, Paul had turned up on mine and Jamie's doorstep with a few suitcases in tow. He told me that Carla had finally broken down after another massive row between them and chucked him out. I still remember Paul's face as he sat on our sofa while I poured him a brandy. He said he had never seen his wife just collapse onto the floor in floods of tears before. The sight was enough to shatter his heart and, not knowing how to make things better anymore, he left without a further argument. He was worried about her though. Absolutely beside himself, and I felt sympathy for my big brother for the first time in a while. So I offered to stay in the guestroom at theirs for a few nights to keep an eye on her for him.

I thought Carla would offer the most resistance to the idea, but the moment I dragged my suitcase into her apartment, she threw herself into my arms and broke down. I comforted her for hours on end, offering a friendly ear and a shoulder to cry on, and we sat up that first night, drinking ourselves into oblivion and watching movies before passing out on the sofa.

A few nights at hers, turned into a few weeks. And a few weeks somehow turned into a few months. We would go into work together, attempt to cook our tea together, and even hang out at the pub for an after work drink together. We got along like a house on fire, which was strange considering we were always at each other's throats during hers and Paul's relationship.

Or perhaps it was strange to me, because it wasn't _really_ that strange after all...

Paul meanwhile, had made himself comfortable in my place with Jamie. He'd offer me a friendly smile and buy me a drink every now and again, but I knew he wasn't all that happy about my living with his wife. Especially not after Carla told him she'd filed for divorce…

"Liam!" her voice shakes me from my thoughts, and I realize I've been staring at my monitor for quite some time. Swallowing my embarrassment I peek up at her from my seat to where she is standing looking down on me with amusement.

"Sorry," I apologize as I clear my throat, "must 'ave spaced out there for a minute."

"I'll say you did," she stated, her voice lined with humour, "blimey I 'ad to call you three times before you even blinked!"

I offer a meek shrug, "what can I say?"

"Well you can say thanks for the compliment I just gave you on the proposal for Gordon's," she says with a smile as she places the portfolio back on my desk, "I reckon we'll be able to seal the deal with him this afternoon."

"Right, he meetin' us 'ere then?" I ask as I finger a few more samples before placing them in the black portfolio as well.

"I was thinkin' we should take him to the Rovers actually," she states and I watch as she sashays back around her desk and leans down to pick up her purse. My eyes subconsciously drop to her backside and I lick my lips in spite of myself before she stands upright again and turns to face me.

I can feel a blush burning into my cheeks, and I clear my throat before speaking again, "yeah, yeah that sounds like a plan."

"I thought so. Hey, if fluttering my eyelashes over a bottle of chardonnay seals the deal for us then I'm there," she says with a giggle before coming to stand in front of me, "Anything you want Liam?" She asks as she crosses her arms under her chest.

My eyes drop to her breasts that are now being pushed up by her arms. I feel myself flush hotly and an all too familiar twitch in my cock. _'Fuck,'_ I berate myself mentally, _'what am I fifteen?!' _I look away and try to laugh off my discomfort, "wha-what do you mean?" I stutter and she raises an eyebrow curiously at me, before throwing her thumb over her shoulder,

"From the café? It's lunchtime Leebugs?" She mocks me affectionately and I can't help but laugh at my naivety.

"Tell you what," I say as I slap my palms on my thighs and regaining some measure of my composure back, "why don't I come with you eh? My treat."

"Well I can't say no to that." She says with a smile

"No you can't," I shrug on my jacket before gesturing towards the door, "after you your majesty."

I see her roll her eyes at me playfully before heading out of the office. As we walk down the street towards the café, laughing and bantering as per usual, I can't help but look around the street curiously.

I have that oddly unsettling feeling that we're being watched…


End file.
